


When The Smoke Settles

by TrapperAttack



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, I have absolutely no clue where this story is going to go, Rating May Change, Relationships Maybe?, Will add more characters as they are introduced
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 07:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12151236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrapperAttack/pseuds/TrapperAttack
Summary: Am I dead? Is this a coma induced fever dream? If this is the afterlife, I'm seriously regretting my religious beliefs right about now. But, I need to find Olive. If I don't manage to turn into one of insatiable hallowed Undead myself.Twins Paige and Oliver find themselves separated in a world that's not their own, a world forsaken by the gods who created it. Perhaps with the help of some new alliances, they'll manage to find each other, and return to their reality, if that remains possible…





	When The Smoke Settles

**Author's Note:**

> A personal AU that I've been entertaining. Involves and focuses on two original characters, hopefully later down the line I'll have a chance to focus on some of the game's characters. This is the first time I've written and posted fanfiction is several years and would love feedback.  
> As for the dialogue, much of it revolving around the main characters speaking to each or to others will be interpreted as ASL. As far as accuracy goes, I took a language class for 3 years in high school but have practices in the last couple years of college. While I want to interpret some of the signs, most of it I am not fully comfortable with and would rather not risk messing up the grammar or meaning by using video dictionaries. As such all sign language will be in italics, while auditory dialogue will be in regular quotations. If anyone is fluid in the language and has comments I would love the help!  
> By the by, this is essentially a prequel chapter.

It starts like this. 

There is a woman, recently deceased, who has been cursed to return to the land of the living- No, that's wrong.

Let's try again, there are two women, sisters, who awake miraculously alive, but in eerily familiar and unfamiliar places, torn apart and alone-  _ Wrong, that's still wrong! _

…

Sisters Paige and Oliver die(?) after a tragic accident- 

It starts like this, from the very beginning. 

Paige stands at the entrance of a one bedroom apartment. She has been standing there for a solid ten minutes, waiting. Growing increasingly impatient as she stares at the door in front of her, eyeing the address-  APT 017 , a welded plaque made of rusted copper and a layer of dust. Drumming her fingers rhythmically against paper sack cradled in her arms, Paige shifts, rearranging the weight so that her left arm is free. She rings the doorbell, again. No answer. As she juggled the groceries in one arm, she shuffles through her pockets for her keys. She manages to fish the ring out of her pocket, baubles jingle-jangling, as she rifles through; her car keys, the rundown jeep sits parked in the street behind her; an i.d. tag, attached to a small chain is a silver tag, pressed into the metal: 

18-196-332 

Mahi’ai 

Matthew

; a rabbit's foot, fake of course, as gift from her sister Bonnie; prayer beads of colorful painted wood, and a thread tassel at the end; a small black case with pepper spray- Paige pauses and gives the bottle a quick shake, mostly full she surmises; her house keys; her friend’s house keys, distinct by its round kiwi themed plastic case; no, no, no- THERE! Clutching the right key, thin and silver with a black sharpie  O drawn on the flat face of the key. After painstaking seconds of her fumbling to get the key in the hole and turn it the correct way, she manages to unlock the door and with a hearty push, it swings open.    
Paige kicks the door shut behind her and throws the key onto the nearest surface. A pungent scent reminiscent of patchouli oil and the smoke haze blanketing the room leaves her in a fit of coughs. With one hand covering her face, she opens the front window, the cheap plastic frame drags across the window pane, and she takes a deep breath of fresh air. That is to say, she takes a deep breath of city smog and the neighbors cigarette fumes, which she sucks in greedily despite her guilt. Now that the stale smoke in the room has a filter out, she makes her way the narrow halls into a tiny cramped kitchen where she sets the bag of groceries on the inner counter. With both hands free, she presses her fingers into the tissues of her left arm, massaging the sore muscles.    
Backtracking, she makes her way once again to the entrance, which doubles as a living room. As she returns to the room and lingers there, Paige turns her attention the unconscious body draped against the love seat couch. Pursing her lips, Paige watches silent, for a brief minute, bushy eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinting. She remembers helping her sister moves the couch into the studio, the bright yellow is still an eyesore, only now it's decorated more stains and fraying fabric than when Oliver found the thing abandoned on a street corner. At least it wasn't infested. Paige shudders, the thought of bugs that might be hiding under couch cushion burrowing into her skin and under her nails, her body quite suddenly twitchy and nervous.    
Paige takes two deep breaths and shakes off the abrupt tension. Navigating around the coffee table littered with empty liquor bottles and the occupied couch, Paige finds the light switch. She tests the switch, and it flickers on before remaining a dull glow, accompanied by the low buzz of cheap wiring. Knowing that the light works, Paige proceeds to jury-rig the lightbulb into a mini strobe light effect. 

Oliver stirs and lets out a weak groan, then digs her face deeper into sweatshirt that she geniusly turned into a pillow after a night of tequila shots. Paige lets out a resigned sigh.    
"C'mon Olive, gotta wake up." Paige murmurs none too loudly, knowing it wouldn't do shit to get her sister's attention. She leans over an arm of the couch and gives Oliver a gentle but insistent nudge. "It three in the afternoon. If you don't get up I'm gonna dump an ice tray down your shirt." She says, still more to herself than to her sister. However the continued shaking rouses Oliver and with an exaggerated huff, she almost crawls into a sitting position. Long strands of kinky brown hair cover most of her face, and Oliver pulls coils of wet hair out of her mouth, leaving a trail of saliva streaking across her cheek. She wipes her face dry with the back of her hand, then rubs at her tired eyes while she's at it.    
Paige brushes the stubborn pieces of hair still attached to her sister's face out of her eyes and takes a seat next to Oliver on the new couch space. With the same hand, she returns to rubbing at the stiff tendons in her left arm. With her other hand she makes half signs, barely a language, but understandable by her sister who's used to their communication for almost 26 years.  _ Doorbell light not working? _ __  
Oliver shrugs, and replies with similar signing.  _ Lights broken. They don't want to pay to fix it. _ She multitasks as she's signing, collecting a lighter, a canister of "medicinal", a glass pipe with an empty bowl, and a plastic grinder.    
_ Your arm injured again? _ She asks Paige, then takes out a couple nuggets that she puts into the grinder and turns into fine almost sticky dust. Which then goes into the empty pipe bowl, packed tightly.    
As Paige is watching her sister's habitual steps, she stretches her arm upwards until makes a satisfying loud pop. After, she replies with more concise signing,  _ No worse off than usual. I-  _ “Ah- Hmmm,” Paige mumbles periodically,  _ brought you some food. I don't know the last time you left the house to go shopping. _ __  
Oliver then one handed motions and open palm, pads of her finger resting on her chin, then finished with arc downwards.  _ Thanks _ . Paige nods in response, subtle and sheepish, seemingly embarrassed by her sister's gratitude. She clicks her tongue, as her eyes trail to the hall lights, which should be wired to the bell. That thing was  _ expensive _ , Oliver had to custom order it for the apartment.   
_ How can maintenance refuse to fix you light? How are you supposed to answer visitors? _ To which Oliver shrugs. Clearly uncaring despite the predicament, or perhaps resigned to her position. She doesn't say anything after that, both hands occupied, with one holding the pipe, thumb on the carb hole, and the other holding a lighter. It takes her a couple tries to strike a flame, with the plastic lighter cheap and heavily used. But she manages to get a flicker just long enough to light the bowl and take a long drag. Paige watches, almost transfixed as her sister breathes the harsh smoke with ease, holding the smoke in her lungs, her chest expanded, then letting it out slowly in puffs that drift upwards and settle in the air. Oliver motions to the pipe,  _ you want a hit, _ she insinuates.    
Paige frowns, her lips tugged into a tight grimace,  __ You shouldn't be smoking inside.

Oliver snorts, tosses the lighter onto the coffee table, it bounces, skittering several paces, then comes to a rattling stop, then signs,  _ On the counter, there's a full packet of cigs _ . Her hand hangs on the last word, a V shape with her index and middle finger pushed onto her lips in an almost universal sign. She raises one eyebrow and quirks her thin, shapely lips into a knowing smirk. 

Paige gives her a half-hearted shove, and yet almost vaults out of the couch and makes a beeline to the bar counter where the pack of unsmoked cigarettes lies still unopened. Ripping the plastic off the packet, she pulls out one of the smokes and pops the end of it into her mouth, balancing it loosely on her lips, then holds her open palm outwards, to which her sister laughs soundlessly, and snatches the lighter back from where it was just discarded, and tosses into Paige's waiting hand.    
With the cig now lit, Paige leans against the bar and the two siblings enjoy the ample silence, both with their respective smokes. Paige watches as the dining room fan rotates overhead, shaking at the speed in which it moves. The cool air it produces relieves her of some of the summer's stifling heat. Her attention then shifts to the television. The screen occasionally crackles with static as it sits on the consoles home. There's a fracture in one of the corners, and a ripple of light warps the colors on the screen.    
The kitchen lamp seems to spasm as the yellow bulb flares and dulls, occasionally, which Paige focuses on fleetingly, bothered by the unusual electric surge., but her attention is directed to the fleeting ashes of her cig. 

Paige finishes her smoke and tosses the butt into kitchen sinks garbage disposal, which she reaches over from the counter. Her tongue rubs lightly over her teeth, tasting the bitter residue. She then winds her way around into the kitchen as well, intent on putting away the food before the frozen goods melt. After her journey that is putting away groceries- she's practically a functioning adult- she returns to the living room and takes her space on the couch.    
Olivers finished smoking herself and has hold of a console controller, which she uses to start up some game, Paige hadn't caught what game she was playing, and the screen goes black as it loads. While the game is preparing, Paige taps a finger on Oliver's thigh to get her attention.    
“So-” She mumbles, once Oliver's watching her, then signs,  _ how's your rough draft going? _ The immediate facial change, her long, almost beak-shaped nose scrunching up, and her thin eyes narrowing further until they become little more than slits, is response enough, but then Oliver continues.    
_ I- _ “hnnnn," she makes a long, drawn-out groan,  _ I have trouble finding inspiration. Everything is just… _ Her hands still as she looks for a satisfying explanation,  _ It's all just boring. _ She settles on "boring" which Paige doesn't think accurately captures her mental stasis, but doesn't know how she would describe it either, so she doesn't say anything.  _ What about you? How's work lately? _

Paige lets out a shaky sigh. She runs one hand through her cropped hair, loosening some of the tight curls where her hair is longer than the close cut shave.  _ I've got a couple inquiries on commission. _

_ That's good. _

_But- It's been weeks since I've last had steady work and everyone interested in my work says the same thing, 'why are your commissions so expensive’, blah blah blah._ As she's signing, Paige mimics a nasally mocking tone, and although Oliver can't hear the imitation, she chuckles knowing what her sister's doing,a quiet hiss, like steam escaping. _At this point commissions barely pay my bills at all. I'm depending almost entirely on my assistance-_ “AUGHhhh-” Paige cuts out as she muffles her screaming with the palms of her hands.   
Peaking through the blinds of her fingers she sees that the game of the televisions as finally loaded.   
DARK SOULS   
PRESS START BUTTON

Paige cocks her head, which one was this…

_ This is the one with…  _ She curls her fingers, slowly, methodically,  _ Dragons? _

NEW GAME

LOAD GAME

…

**LOAD GAME**

_ Uh-  _ Oliver spares a quick glance in her direction,  _ Well technically, it HAS dragons, but uh-  _ Still focused on the TV, she shakes her head, hair rustling and coming to rest, blinding Oliver, who huffs in exasperation, and stops playing only to adjust her hair.  _ No, not really,  _ She signs with one hand, and in another experienced hand, she ties her hair into a frizzy, messy bun. Hair now in a loose knot out of her eyes, she picks up the controller again.

_ Soooo, it’s about?  _

Oliver pokes the tip of her tongue out her mouth,  _ It’s about…  _  She juggles her hand with the visual communication and the controller's navigation sticks,  _ Usurping Gods, kinda?  _ Olivers only partially paying attention to her sister now, as she loads up her current save file, the information telling, 

Josie-

Paige's heart clenches briefly seeing that name-

Level 234, Firelink Shrine, Play Time 302 : 64 : 23

_ How long have you been playing this game? _

Oliver, one-handed,  _ I'm playing NG4 right now. _ She signs New Game + 4 with three separate letters, N- A clenched fist with her thumb trapped between her ring and middle finger, G- another closed fist, but with her forefinger and thumb stretched out, and 4- easy enough, like any other person would symbolize the number four.  _ Meaning I beat the game four times, and am now on my fifth round, which is more difficult than the previous rest. _   
Paige wants to say, "Why would you play the same game five times?" But she holds her tongue, already knowing why. She's seen how bad it gets for her little sister sometimes, she worries about her. It's not as if she can afford proper medication, and honestly, after a terrifying incident that involved their older sister’s anxiety medication- Lord, how did she even managed to pilfer enough pills to OD?- Paige doesn't know how much she trusts Olive to have those kinds of drugs easy access. She wants to trust her, of course, wants her to be able to recover but...   
As Paige ruminates, Oliver's character has finished loading, and the screen fades to a mossy overgrown ruin, low-stooping stairs that lead to crumbling remains, and the sound of melancholy violins quietly playing in the background- Paige actually has to strain to hear it, the sound on the television set almost off considering how pointless it would be to be /audible/ for Oliver- Paige hums noncommittally.  _ Looks peaceful. _ __  
She walks her character up a grassy hill, slaying enemies with a long scythe weapon as they charge at her.    
They both go quiet, or to be more accurate their hands go still, and the two of them fall into a familiar stretch of silence, broken only by the muted noise emanating from the game and the rush of air as the ceiling fan spins. The sun hangs high in the sky, casting a warm glow through the blinds, illuminating the room in a soft, even gentle radiance.    
The peace is interrupted by a shrill, angry alarm, muffled by only a few walls away. Paige shakes off the growing lethargy and sits bolt upright. Oliver continues playing her game, completely unperturbed and unaware of the alarm.    
At first, Paige assumes one of the neighbors set off the smoke detector on accident, hell maybe their vagrant smokes managed to drift through into another apartment. But as the alarm continues to ring through the complex, the hopeful thought splinters, and shatters. A growing panic of overtakes Paige. Her stomach drops and she shudders violently, "Olive," she latches onto her sister, breaking her out of her stupor. "I think there's a fire, we need to leave-" She knows Oliver can't hear her, but her sister understands her words as she speaks. Reading the words as they form on her lips. Oliver only hastily glances at the television screen, then her hand clenched around the translucent cherry red controller before she drops it useless on the tables, rattling noisily as it lands. Paige motions for her to get up, and they abandon the game, as a pair of groaning, zombified men ruthlessly attacker her character.    
As they make their way to the front door, Oliver halts to a stop,  _ Wait wait wait,  _ she waves her hands,  _ I need _ \- She doesn't finish what she's saying, but spins 180 and flees to her single room, rummaging through her belongings. Paige trails after her. She nervously shifts her glances to the rest of the apartment, listening with baited breaths as the muffled alarm blares on. Returning to Paige, Oliver has a small emergency pack slung across her shoulder, her wallet clutched tightly in free hand, and-   
__ You still have you cochlear? Paige asks, and Oliver tugs at a couple loose strands of her hair. She scans her room quickly, looking for the often unused implant. Finding it discarded on her counter, she tosses it into her bag with everything else and the pair of siblings hurry out of the room, intent on evacuating the building.    
They are interrupted, however, by the loud, large and flashing electric shocks that are practically exploding out of the back of the television. Paige jumps, startled by the sudden electricity and the thunderous noise, then too, as the deafening screams of Oliver's own fire alarms joining the cacophony.   
A sudden, intense heat swells in the room, and like a whiplash, a trail of flames stretch across the front of the living rooms, across the entrance the apartment. And then, a horrifically cloying fear threatens to overtake the siblings, as they are both almost instantly paralyzed. As they realize, they are in fact trapped, their only exit is now engulfed in fire.    
As the flames grow higher, and the heat licks at the two, Paige springs into action. She bolts to the kitchen and starts throwing open counter drawers with a sort of furious, frantic pace. Looking for something, she rummages through the cabinets, slamming doors when she couldn't find it. After a quick few seconds of fruitless searching, she changes objectives and latches onto the first knife she spots. A small tapered boning knife, but definitely sharp enough.    
Knife in hand, Paige grabs hold of Oliver's, who's hunched over in what Paige realizes on a sudden panic attack. "Olive, Olive hang on to me," she murmured reassuringly, uselessly. 

Amidst her palpitations, Oliver's become short of breath, she struggles to take in rough gasping gulps of air. Her chest constricts in an aching tightness as in body entire clenches. Large wet tears trail down her face, now flushed and red, and distantly, Oliver can taste the saltine on her lips. 

With a firm grip on her shoulder, Paige forcibly guides Oliver back into her room, confused and disoriented Oliver stumbles, nearly collapsing, but guided into her room nonetheless. As Paige sits her on the bed, making sure the fire has not chased them further yet, she makes her way to the large bay window. Forcing the old and probably broken window open, she works quickly to use the knife she had grabbed from the kitchens and in several long strokes has ripped open the bug net outside the glass pane. It leaves the window as an open escape hatch, large enough for two fully grown woman to crawl out of.    
With half a mind, Paige shoves the knife, sharp end outwards, into one of her back pockets. Then grabs the emergency backpack that Oliver had dropped, and props up her sister, who's managed to calm her breathing and tears have stopped flowing as her panic attack has subsided.    
It happens before either of them can do anything. Before they can shimmy their way out to freedom and safety, several long wood beams in the ceiling catch on fire, and a large chunk of plaster and wood comes crashing down on the siblings. It pins Paige, who had been crouched over Oliver, motioning her towards the escape route, to the ground. Pieces of the wall collapsing on her back and spine. Leaving her trapped underneath its weight and reeling as she valiantly attempts to remain awake and coherent. The fire dancing across the rubble scurries its way onto Paige, the tips of her hair smolder and her clothing ignites as the fire flares with an insatiable hunger. She thrashes wildly as the heat sears into her skin, the pain immediate and inescapable, crying out in a sudden intense agony. Pains blossoms all across her body, the heavy wooden beams crushing her under their weight. Worse yet more of the surrounding ceiling has become splinters and crashing around her, chunks of plaster strike her head. Her body spasms and convulsions as the muscles in her arms and legs give out. Distantly, she hears Oliver call out to her, words slurred and filled with terror, the fire alarms still ringing in the background, and somewhere beneath all that, long, wailing sirens slowly, but surely amplifying. But as the sounds of the crackling fire rush over her, overwhelming, and the sounds of her sister tune in and out, and as Paige's visions swim. An utter blackness eclipsing her sight. Hysterically, Paige worries that as she loses consciousness, she might just spit up and choke on her own vomit. The sharp spike of adrenaline does nothing give her strength or muscle use back, but she has enough energy to collapse her head to the side, mouth angled parallel to the floor. Paige surrenders to the disparate calm and dark.  

Oliver, who watches as her sister falls into a fit of seizures before passing out, tries to lift the collapsed ceiling with a strength that her body simply does not contain. In the few frantic minutes, it takes for her to try and free her trapped sister, the fire has leaped across the room, vigorously consuming the dirty laundry, the thick paperback books, and other debris on floor, before it makes it the half-full bottles of alcohol that Oliver had left abandoned on her nightstand. The blast is inevitable and intense. And though Oliver does not hear the boom of the glass shattering, nor does she see the abrupt combustion, as the alcohol burst into a small explosion, she certainly feels it as is launches her forward, knocking her onto the ground. Directly onto the growing fire and embers. Instinctively, she shrieks, incoherently but ear-splitting. With her mouth hanging wide open, she chokes on the spittle building in her throat, and her screaming comes to a dead standstill. Oliver is left coughing and gasping silently.

She needs to get up, to put out the fire that's scorching her, leaving massive burns across her face and arms, but her body refuses to cooperate and the pains ebbs away, despite the panic that sets in. Her mind seems to come to a grinding halt as her eyes drop and a drowsiness overtakes her. Suddenly nothing else is important but sleep. Caving into the lethargy her limbs relax, despite her. With the last of her energy, she listlessly manages to raise her head, and grinds out, words lisping and faltering, 

“Pa-aige, wake up, please,” before devolving into, “please, please, please,” until finally her words cut out, voice weak and cloying. Paige has long passed out, the rubble leaving her incoherent, unconscious and unmovable. And as Olivers slips into the warm embrace of her death, she sees, past drowsy eyes, the fire overtaking the room, everything submitting to the unceasingly, incredible sun hot heat and the bright almost angelic light. It seems to slowly come together, becoming one, all-consuming source. It's almost, Oliver seems to notes, as her mind and body fail her, like a bonfire. As she finally falls into blissful, painless darkness, comforted only by the gentle embrace of the fire.

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, this story is unbetaded, so all editing come from myself. That being said, you'll b=probably notice :)


End file.
